


Make a Wish

by MissNessarose



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Fluff, Involves all good endings, M/M, Multiple Realities, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNessarose/pseuds/MissNessarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were six very important birthdays in Aoba's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I had introduced game this to my friend Allie shortly before her birthday, and this was the story that I wrote for her as a present!   
> Also, though the first two I assume occur every time, the rest are various instances that, I suppose, all take place after the good ending of each respective partner. So, read them as if viewing all in their independent realities.

 

_I don't want to be lonely anymore..._

 

When he woke up that morning, he didn't  _ feel  _ like he was seven. He still felt six. Aoba sat up in bed, trying to comprehend why things still felt...different. It was only just getting light outside, and the rising sun cast hazy, dim shadows across the bedroom.

It didn't  _ feel  _ like his birthday. 

He couldn't tell why, either.

It wasn't that he knew his parents wouldn't be here—no, it had been that way for a few years already.

Then, as the last dizzy fog of sleep cleared itself from his head, he remembered.

This year was the first that Koujaku wouldn't be here.

Pouting, Aoba drew the blankets over his head and left only enough space to poke his face out. It just wasn't going to be as fun this year—besides, he didn't really have many other close friends.

Granny must have already been up; he could already smell the faint traces of a chocolate cake from downstairs.

He wasn't sure if even the promise of a double-chocolate layer cake could lift his spirits today.

In fuzzy striped socks and plaid pajamas, Aoba pulled the topmost comforter around himself and solemnly made his way downstairs. The cake was just finished as he padded softly into the kitchen, plopping himself down onto a chair with his blanket hood drawn tightly around him, as if he were trying to disappear within it.

Maybe Granny was amused, or perhaps a bit confused. He couldn't quite tell.

“Aoba, get that thing off of your head! I don't want it catching on the candles.”

Reluctantly, he nuzzled his way out of the wrapping, letting the blanket fall about his shoulders. The cake was lit up with seven little multi-colored candles, but he sat silently in his seat and stared thoughtfully at the little flames.

“Granny, it doesn't feel like it's my birthday.”

“No?”

She was never one to treat him like a child, or at least not very often, and that was what Aoba liked best about his grandmother. She never valued his opinions less because he was young, and she never talked down to him; in fact, she treated him much like she would any other adult. It made him feel...important, somehow.

“And why's that?” she asked, scooting up to the table in the chair opposite his.

“I dunno. I just don't feel like I'm seven. I still feel like I'm six, you know?”

As she took a drink of her tea, she nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you feel like that on your birthdays too?”

“Sometimes. As you get older you'll find you feel that way a lot of times, Aoba. You may not believe that you've been around for seven years, but just you wait—you'll be in your twenties before you know it. A proper young man and all that. You'll find someone you like, marry 'em and move out...”

“No!” he cried, shaking his head. “I'd never leave you, Granny. I couldn't. And I couldn't ever get married. Don't married people kiss and stuff?” He wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out just slightly. “I'd never want that.”

Her laugh was amused, but also wise—she knew he would understand, in time. She changed the subject, waving a hand towards the cake.

“Now, go on and blow out those candles, boy, before they drip all over your frosting. Make a wish, and make it good—you only get one.”

Aoba nodded firmly, and stared hard into the flickering light again. He only got one wish, and he had to make it something good: something that would last the whole year.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he thought of his wish, and blew at the candles—they all went out in one blow.

“What'd you wish for?” Tae asked softly, in the silence that followed.

“I can't tell you that, Granny, or it won't come true!”

“Sure you can. You can always tell one person your wish—but only if they're very, very special to you.”

He took a dull butter knife from her, and knelt on his chair to cut a large piece of cake out for himself.

“Well...can you wish for something that isn't a thing? Like something that you can't hold?”

For a moment, she was worried, and wasn't sure what his intentions were. However, she let him go on, anyways.

“Of course you can. What did you want?”

He all but tossed the wad of cake onto his plate, and sat back down with a muffled thud on the comforter that had already tangled itself about the legs of the chair. “It's just that, since Koujaku's gone....I don't have any more friends to play with.”

His lip trembled slightly; for a brief second she thought he might cry, but he didn't. He gazed up at her with curious, watery eyes.

“Can I wish for that?”

He didn't want to be lonely anymore.

Reaching across the table, she took his hand in his, and smiled. “Of course you can. As for friends, maybe you'd like to see your present?”

They were never very wealthy people, but Aoba didn't seem to mind. No matter how many presents she managed to find for him, he always enjoyed and appreciated them just the same. On the edge of the table sat one box, an old cardboard packing box wrapped tight with bright red ribbon and a big bow. She slid it down his way, and Aoba had to scoot his seat back just to hold it in his lap.

“What is it?”

“Well, open it, don't ask me!”

He was always unnaturally neat about opening gifts, always taking the bow off and unraveling the ribbon in one long, neat string. Aoba lifted the lid, setting it on the chair beside him, and when he looked in the box he nearly screamed, looking at his grandmother with wide eyes.

“It's a dog?” he whispered, as if he were afraid of the animal in the box. She merely smiled.

“Go on, take the thing out and put it on the table so you can get a good look at him!”

“How do I pick it up? I—I don't want to hurt it!”

Tae laughed, and stood to help him with the large box, lifting the small dog into his arms.

“There you go. Hold him like a baby when you pick him up.”

Aoba sat and accepted the dog, but trembled—what if it broke?

“I'm gonna break it,” he whispered, watching the sleeping dog. “I don't wanna break it!”

“You're not going to break it, Aoba, it's a computer. You've seen these things, right?”

He'd seen the things in stores, of course—animalistic computers or machines that could be played with online. Aoba didn't care much for the new game that came out, though. Just having this dog was enough.

“Oh...is it sleeping?”

She indicated that it was activated by touch, and Aoba reached to pet it with nervous, shaking hands. He really didn't want to break it. It started up in his arms, blinking awake as its tongue slid out just slightly from its small mouth.

_ “Aoba.” _

He couldn't help but laugh—it had such a deep voice for such a small dog! It was so sweet, so small...and it was  _ his.  _ He loved the little dog instantly.

“Uh...hi. Granny, what's its name?”

“You can call it whatever you want. It's got a blank memory space.”

That was a lie, but he didn't know that—he didn't  _ need  _ to know that. The Allmate was a part of Aoba that he didn't even know existed, probably. And, if things went well, he wouldn't know it existed for a long, long time. The little boy looked at the small dog in his arms as it talked in its deep baritone to him, and he finally spoke.

“I think that I'll call him Ren.”

\- - - -

 

_I don't really need anything....can you just keep everything alright until next year? That'd be nice._

 

He nearly screamed when the bottle rocket shot out of the window, erupting into red and gold sparks with a loud bang.

_ “Shit!”  _ Aoba cried, throwing his hands up to cover his head. “Shit, Mizuki, don't set those things off in the house!”

His friend laughed, rubbing the soot from his hands as he tossed the burnt-out match behind him. He shrugged. “Eh, nobody lives across the alley but a couple of rich drug lords. Rich bastards aren't home half the time anyways.”

“But don't fire rockets out of your basement windows anyway!”

His advice seemed to be lost on him, though. Mizuki considered his words for a moment, and then promptly forgot them. The basement was small and walled with cement bricks and furnished with a few spare pieces of furniture that they'd found for sale on the street—a leather sectional with broken footrests and an old armchair, with a few wobbly side tables and a three-legged coffee table to boot. It was always cold down there, too, and Aoba always felt frozen despite being over so often.

Mizuki plopped down heavily next to him on the sectional, and threw an arm around Aoba's shoulders. He pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, ruffling his blue hair, and he pressed a hastily wrapped gift into his friend's hands.

“Mizuki, it's not even my birthday yet. That's tomorrow.”

“I don't care! I need a reason to party today—no time like the present, they say. So go on, open it, I wanna know what you think.”

Aoba rolled his eyes but complied, and he parted mismatched, multicolored wads of tissue paper out of the way to reveal a puffy blue-and-white jacket.

“What's  _ this?”  _

“What, you don't like it?” Vaguely, Mizuki sounded offended. Roughly, he pulled out one of the jacket's sleeves. “It's that Brain Nuts jacket we saw in the shop last week. You said you liked it, so I thought I'd get it. Besides, it's padded. Nice and warm—you always complain that it's too cold down here.” 

Before Aoba had time to respond, and to thank him for the present, Mizuki was already pulling him up off of the couch, forcing his arms up.

“Well, let's see how it looks!” he said firmly, slipping it on over Aoba's shoulders. “Well? What do you think?”

Turning in the view of a cracked glass mirror against the wall, Aoba tried to see from as many angles as he could.

“It's...warm. I like it—but I feel like I'm drowning in it!”

Mizuki fell back onto the sofa, and lit another match. “You're welcome, asshole. Sit down, I got you a cupcake.”

The empty gift wrappings were tossed aside to allow for sitting room, and Mizuki lit the single candle forced into a small, messily made cupcake.

“There you go. Make a wish.”

“It's not my birthday, Mizuki.”

“Well, pretend like it is! Or consider it your I-just-got-out-the-hospital-and-I'm-not-dead-yet-cupcake!”

“That was two weeks ago.”

“And look at you! You're fine! A-plus recovery! Blow out the candle.”

“Okay!”

He thought hard—what did he even  _ want  _ for his birthday?—and then blew.

“What'd you wish for?”

“Nothing special.”

“Tell me?  _ Pleaseee—” _

“ _ Fine!  _ Just for a good year, I guess. To have a nice year until I get to make another wish next year. That's all.” 

Mizuki handed the cupcake to him and leaned back on the couch with a smirk, folding his arms behind his head. “Ain't that the truth. I don't know why, but l et me tell you, kid—it's going to be one hell of a year.”

Somehow, Aoba had a feeling that he was right.

\- - -

 

_I just want to be happy with you. That's all that I really want._

 

He was on edge the entire day, because he  _ knew  _ that Koujaku had gone and done something, against his wishes. 

_ “I don't want anything for my birthday,”  _ he had said, months before.

He doubted that his boyfriend had listened.

Several chocolate boxes lined the kitchen counters, and Koujaku stood before a blackened oven, his messy hair half up in a clip, cake batter smudged across one cheek and a fire extinguisher in his hands. Guiltily, he smiled.

“Aoba! You're home...early.”

“Yeah. What the hell did you do to the stove?”

He could barely make out a cake pan among the blackened, charred mess that resided on the oven rack.

“Nothing. I just...wanted to make you something...that's all.”

“Is that a cake?”

“Not anymore.”

He smiled before he could help it, and they both burst into laughter, leaning against kitchen counters just to keep themselves standing.

“How about we just go out for dinner? You can buy me a cake or something.”

“That sounds like a much safer plan.”

Aoba spun Koujaku around, leaning up on the tips of his toes to twist the rest of his hair back up into the clip.

“There.”

The last touch—he swept the remains of the batter off of Koujaku's face, licking it off of his finger.

“Well, at least the batter tasted good  _ before  _ you burnt it.” 

“And there's the chocolate. Can you make a birthday wish on a chocolate?”

“I can try.” He closed his eyes as he opened the chocolate box, placed one in Koujaku's mouth, and then took one for himself. “There.”

“What did you wish for?”

“I don't need to make a wish. I already have everything I want.”

Aoba stood up on his toes, and kissed him.

_\- - -_

 

_I just want you this year...and nothing else. Nothing else matters._

 

They had gone out to lunch for the afternoon—Noiz had all but dragged him along—and when they came back, what they found was the last thing that Aoba had expected to see.

The grand staircase was wound with streamers, with balloons lining the banisters and glitter littering the carpet.

“Holy shit, man.”

The loud wheezing of a party favor made him jump, and Noiz tried to appear as inconspicuous as he could, despite the obvious party blower in one hand.

“Happy Birthday?” he tried, with a sly smirk. Aoba punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“I said that I didn't want anything, asshole.”

“And I didn't listen. Like usual. You want to see your presents?”

He'd never really had rich friends, so he was worried to see what the results of this birthday would be. However, he told himself that Noiz had sense—he wouldn't have gone overboard at  _ all. _

He was wrong.

He went absolutely over-overboard.

When the moon was already climbing its way to the top of the sky, Aoba sighed and slid another well-wrapped present out of the way. There were still plenty left, but he thought that he'd save them for later; it was getting late.

“Noiz, did you really need to get me all of this stuff?”

From the dining chair next to him, he scoffed. “Sure I did. I love you, stupid. I know that I didn't really know what you wanted, but...I thought I did pretty good. What _did_ you want?”

He almost said “nothing”, far too easily, but held his tongue and thought about it. Disregarding his first answer, Aoba stood quietly, and turned to the chair beside him, lowering himself slowly into Noiz's lap.

“I just want _you_ this year,” he whispered, kissing the tip of a nose where a pierced rod once was. “Can that be arranged?”

Noiz looked him in the eyes and did not move his gaze as he reached over to the closest pile of wrappings on the table and slapped a bow onto his head. He picked Aoba up around the waist, allowing him to wrap his legs about him before he stood, carrying him down the hall.

“Don't even ask me twice, sweetheart.”

\- - -

 

_Smile. Seeing you happy makes me happy._

 

So far, people had left him alone. For once, everyone had listened and had sent nothing more his way than a card and a couple of dollars to spend on himself. It was lovely, for what it was worth.

Clear didn't seem to notice, or even remember, that it was Aoba's birthday today, and that was fine—much less of a fuss, of course. Aoba wondered if he even knew that it was his birthday—he hadn't really brought it up, anyways.

The day had been rather slow, filled with the usual cuddling and lounging around that they would do on any other Saturday. However, there had been a sort of carnival in town recently—something new since the island had been freed and restored—full of silly amusement park rides, and cheap soda and greasy funnel cakes.

They didn't have anything better to do, and Clear wanted to go.

So they did.

Aoba enjoyed himself, but let his boyfriend do whatever he really wanted to do—from trying a couple of corn dogs to riding on the teacups no less than four times.

They were dizzy after that to the point that they had to sit down, but Aoba was also dizzy with happiness—it was wonderful.

When it got late, the sun lowering to brush the horizon, they decided to try the large Ferris Wheel one last time before they headed home. As their luck would have it, the thing broke—and they were seated at the very top, watching patiently as the sun went down.

“Are we stuck?” Clear tilted his head to the side curiously, peering down over the edge of their basket.

“Yeah, I think so. They'll get it fixed soon enough, these things break down all the time, anyways.”

He looked strangely at the ground below, thinking hard. “How far down do you think it is?”

“I'd say about forty feet, or something—hey, don't jump down!”

Clear paused, standing up in the basket. “Why not? It won't hurt me.”

No, it wouldn't—but people would stare! Aoba didn't want to have to try to answer questions like that today. However, he wasn't going to tell Clear that—so he thought of something else.

“Yeah, but...but then I'll be stuck up here all by myself. And it's nice up here. Look how pretty that sunset is.”

He sat back down quickly enough.

“It is nice.”

In a swift movement that took no longer than it took Aoba to blink, a bouquet of flowers was suddenly being placed in his hands.

“Didn't think I forgot, did you?”

Clear kissed him.

“Happy Birthday, Aoba-san~!”

\- - -

 

_Just lie here with me for a little while longer._

 

Aoba loved the freedom of being able to spend the day knowing that you had nothing to do—no obligations, no responsibilities...just the ability to lie around and relax for once. Maybe the furniture in the house was too big for him, but he always felt like he was drowning in the recliners and like he could sleep comfortably upon the sofas.

Their bed was no exception, and the sea of comforters and woven blankets was especially warm on the coldest winter nights.

In the spring, it was a perfect place to nap.

Mink was propped up on the bed, but Aoba laid curled up beside him, drifting in and out of comfortable warm sleep as tendrils of incense-like smoke filled the room from his boyfriend's pipe.

It was wonderfully lazy, and well past noon. They laid together in the silence, warmed by each other, until, after what was possibly hours, Mink spoke.

“It's your birthday, isn't it?”

Aoba tried to think about it, and simply readjusted himself against his boyfriend.

“I think so. Yeah, it is. I don't care, though. I didn't want anything, anyways.”

“You must have wanted something. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything.” Idly, he played with loose strands of Aoba's hair, twisting them between his fingertips.

“It's fine...like I said, I didn't really want anything.”

“You can't be content with nothing. Are you happy with what you have? With what I've given you?”

Aoba rolled over so as to see him better, and he grinned. “Of course I am. You think I wouldn't be? Just you is enough.”

He cuddled closer, moving to draw the blankets over the both of them.

“You know, if you want to really do something for my birthday, then don't move. Just....just lie here with me for a little while longer.”

As he did so, the faintest trace of a smile graced Mink's lips. He took a long drag of the pipe, and blew circles into the air.

“Of course, Aoba. If that's what you want.”

“It is.”

“...Happy Birthday, then.”

 


End file.
